


Life Debts

by Florus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, POV Multiple, Romance, Supportive Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22910290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florus/pseuds/Florus
Summary: After the war, Harry shuts himself in Grimmauld Place. He rejects everyone and wants to be left alone.Hermione manipulates him into going back to Hogwarts for their eighth year.Ron and Hermione need someone to push Harry to his limits and make him feel again. Who could be better than Draco Malfoy to push Harry's buttons?With his life debts, Malfoy can't refuse to help save Harry from himself.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> This is my first time writing a fanfiction. I apologize for every mistake, mispelling and for the lack of vocabulary. Don't hesitate to point out my shortcomings so that I can better myself :)
> 
> English is also not my mother tongue so there might be some errors in the wording etc. 
> 
> Well I hope you'll be able to understand what I wrote, obviously. But I mostly hope you'll enjoy this!

**Warning** :

This fanfic talks _a lot_ about **depression** , especially in the first few chapters. 

Chapter 1

**HARRY**

I think I might be depressed.

Well no, I’m lying. I shouldn’t lie to myself. I _know_ I’m depressed.

There, all better.

…

Nothing’s different. I’ve just admitted to myself something huge and _nothing_ ’s different. How can this be? If I really want to think about it, I would say I feel even _worse_ than when I was in denial.

The war’s been over for a few months now. I think, back then, I already knew something was wrong with me. That’s why I didn’t stop to rest after killing Voldemort. I just kept going from funerals to testifying in trials to helping rebuild Hogwarts. Anything to keep me from thinking and/or collapsing and never get up.

I _knew_. I just _knew_ if I stopped to rest, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed anymore.

So here I am. In my bed in fucking Grimmauld Place. And I can’t _get up_. It’s not even that I don’t want to or that I’m too tired to get up.

That wouldn’t be so bad.

But no, I just _can’t_. Like I’m not able to. Like I don’t even fucking know _how_ to get out of this fucking bed!

Do I move my legs first? Do I grab my glasses? _How_ do I grab my glasses again? I think I need to open my eyes. Maybe they’re already open. I don’t even know that.

…

I’m going mental.

All I’m able to do is _think/think/think_.

My body doesn’t work but my brain does. Well, mostly. It seems to have some difficulties giving orders to my body.

Maybe I’m just going crazy and not depressive.

I hope not but it certainly feels like it.

…

Let’s recap, shall we? Maybe it will help me understand what’s going on with my fucking brain.

The aftermaths of the war was… bad. So many deaths. So many funerals. So many regrets. So much _pain_. Too much. It was all too much…

I thought I was used to it. I thought I was strong. I thought I had the will to survive. I thought I could continue as always. I thought I could do what I had to do. I thought I could help others get it together. I thought I could be a pillar to my friends in this time of need. I thought I could do the right thing. I thought. I thought I could.

But I couldn’t.

…

I tried to do the best I could though. I was there with the Weasleys to cope with the aftermaths of Fred’s death. I was at the Burrow to cook when Molly was drowning in her tears and Arthur just kept staring at the fire without blinking or moving. I don’t think he knew he was crying silently.

I was at the Burrow to open the windows and let the sun in when Ron couldn’t get out of his bed for days and wouldn’t have noticed if he had stayed in the dark. I think he didn’t even notice when Hermione went to bring her parents back and stayed with them.

I was there to clean and to have a semblance of life in this house when nobody could move. I was _there_ for them.

I didn’t go back with Ginny though. We’re too different from the people we used to be now.

…

I was at each funeral. I _spoke_ at each funeral even though I hate the attention. Even though I hate talking in front of people. I don’t care for talking actually.

But I owed it to the departed.

I owed it to those who stayed behind.

I think.

Sometimes it feels like I owe a lot of things. Sometimes it feels like I’ve already done a lot. Too much. Mostly it feels like each death is my fault. I know I didn’t kill them but knowing and feeling are two _very_ different things.

…

I was at Hogwarts to help rebuild it. It didn’t take long though. Suddenly every wizard from Britain was available to help and celebrate. Every adult. Where were they during the war, I wonder. Guess it was better for them to let _kids_ fight their war. Kids… none of us have been kids for a long time now, haven’t we? We all grew up so fast in those few years we were at Hogwarts…

Anyway there they were, all these adults. Happy to help! There _is_ a wizard community in Britain it seems. They just don’t fight.

So, with so much help, the rebuilding didn’t take so long. Only most of July. Sadly. I had hoped it would take all summer.

It would’ve been good.

I wouldn’t have had time to think if it had. I wouldn’t be stuck in my bed if it had. It would’ve been better to spend all summer in Hogwarts, with all those awful memories, than to be stuck in Grimmauld Place in August with another load of awful memories.

I think anywhere I look, there are awful memories.

…

I even testified in some trials. I didn’t go there since I was so busy. The trials took place really early: beginning of June. I think the wizengamot would’ve put the trials immediately after the war if it weren’t for all the funerals. Seems to me they were really eager to wash their hands off of the trials.

So the trials. I sent a testimony for Malfoy and his mother. It seemed like the right thing to do since they both saved my life. And it kept me busy for a few nights, trying to decide what to say.

Anything to keep me from sleeping. Well, anything to keep me from the nightmares.

…

The nightmares…

I thought they were bad before.

Hahaha! I thought they were bad before!!!

I was so naïve then. Those nightmares have nothing on the ones I have now! Those nightmares were dreams compared to what I see now.

My current nightmares follow me when I’m awake now. They’re never too far away now. They follow me everywhere. I’m never safe from them. It feels like I have fucking _visions_ when I’m awake. Sometimes I can even see myself dying in an accident or by my own hand. That’s how bad it is. I’m cooking and suddenly I see myself opening my wrist with a kitchen knife. And worst of all, it feels good. It feels _right_.

…

I don’t feel anything now. I’m just an empty body. A waste of space as would say the Dursleys.

Maybe they were right all along about me.

I can’t do anything right. I’m a mistake. Even when I come back from the dead I don’t do it right since it seems that I regret it.

I feel so shameful to have those thoughts.

I shouldn’t even think them.

When I think about all those people who died… I'm ashamed to wish to join them.

I don’t understand myself. All those years trying to stay alive and always pushing on. And now I can’t do nor feel anything. I didn’t think I would survive. I shouldn’t have survived the war. I used to make all those plans for after the war, but deep inside I knew I wouldn’t be alive. It was all a front.

But here I am.

I survived.

Mostly.

Doesn’t really feel like it, actually.

Feels like I’m dead inside.

Can’t feel a thing.

Well, can’t feel a thing except for stress and anger.

I’ve got panic attacks now. Wonderful.

And I’m so _angry_.

Angry at every one.

I’m alone in this Merlin forsaken place because of that. Because even though I love my friends and my adopted family… I kind of hate them when I see them.

I _know_ I love them but I don’t _feel_ it. 

And when I see them, I want to shout. And hit something. Or someone. Because they’re trying to move on now. They don’t need me to take care of them anymore.

They’re still mourning and all, but they kind of pulled their shit together I guess.

And they gathered I should be pulling my shit together too.

But I’m not.

I’m actually just starting to fall apart and they don’t want to see it.

They want me to cry and express my feelings to heal together or some crap like that.

But I don’t remember how to cry.

I haven’t cried for a long time now.

I want to.

My throat is always tightening like I’m going to cry but it just keeps me from breathing fully.

I feel like crying all the time but on the other hand I’m just not able to. I gather it’s for the best since I’m not sure I would be able to stop crying anyway.

So everyone is pestering me nowadays. I know they’re worrying about me now that they’ve started to live again but I can’t handle it. I can’t be bothered to talk. To feel. To think.

So I exiled myself in Grimmauld Place saying I wanted to renovate the place.

Well I’ve been there for a week and I haven’t gotten out of bed since. I just keep lying in bed wondering where everything went wrong. I sleep half an hour there and then.

And I keep wondering if it was really worth it to come back from the dead.


	2. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I posted the first chapter only yesterday and already a few readers have bookmarked it! Well thanks a lot to you. I didn't really think anyone would read it!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Here is the second chapter. Don't hesitate to comment if anything doesn't make sense!
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 2

**HARRY**

I will fucking kill them all.

…

I’ve spent all of August in Grimmauld Place hiding from everyone. Mostly hiding from myself.

After the first week staying in my bed, I actually tried to do something with myself. I started by cleaning the whole house. I didn’t feel like going outside.

Well, I didn’t feel like doing a lot of things.

I didn’t feel like eating.

But I knew I had to, if I didn’t want others to see how bad I was. It wouldn’t do to lose too much weight. So I ate what Kreacher cooked but nothing tasted good.

Nothing feels good anymore.

I didn’t feel like washing myself.

But I took a shower everyday nonetheless.

I feel dirty.

Always so dirty.

It started when I was living with the Dursleys and they would watch me with so much disgust.

Disgust in their eyes. Disgust on their faces. Disgust in their words.

It was the same at school. The kids would make fun of me because I was an orphan. And the parents… The parents. They would watch me with pity and disgust. I guess I was a sight to behold in those days. So underweighted. So tiny. Drowning in those big clothes.

Those big clothes so handy to hide how cadaverous I was.

Those big clothes so handy to hide the bruises Dudley put all over my body.

The adults at my school would see me and look somewhere else.

Where they disgusted? Where they ashamed they didn’t do anything to help me?

No matter what they thought I always felt insignificant seeing them avoid looking at me.

I felt so dirty then.

It was like I shouldn’t even be there. It felt like I had a disease, and everyone was avoiding me, kids and adults alike.

In those times I wasn’t always able to take a shower, but I felt so dirty I would sometimes wash my hands until I bled. Still do sometimes.

So yeah, even though I don’t want to take a shower I still wash. This feeling of uncleanliness is even worse now, I guess. Sometimes I swear I can sense blood on my hands.

When I feel like this I start to clean. Useless to say the house has never been so immaculate.

But this house is like me. We are so alike it’s funny. Even though it’s spotless it doesn’t feel right. It’s just a big, empty house. Like I’m just a big, empty, clean body.

…

I spent most of August like this. Cleaning, fixing things in this hollow place. Hollow like me.

Each night, I would fear the nightmares. I would fall asleep from exhaustion late in the night. Or more accurately early in the morning. And I would hope not to wake up.

Each morning, I would wake up. And I would feel desperate.

…

Everyone mostly left me alone. I think they assumed I just needed a little time to myself to rest and grieve in peace.

They assumed wrong.

…

They’ve started to owl and floo me. At first, I couldn’t answer. Just thinking about talking to someone had me in a panic attack.

 _Me_ , _Harry_ fucking _Potter_ , a _hero_ , the _Chosen One_ , the _Golden Boy_ , having a panic attack at the thought of having contact with the outside world. Malfoy would pay to see that. I’m sure he would have a good laugh.

I kept the Floo closed so that no one could contact me. But the owls kept coming.

I reckoned I couldn’t keep on ignoring them. I had to tell them I was fine if I wanted them off my back.

…

In mid-August, I flooed Ron and his family. They seemed to be faring better. I could still sense their grief, but it wasn’t controlling them anymore.

They wanted me to have dinner with them, but I lied and told them I was too sore from working on the house to move. It would’ve been too much. Too many people. Too soon. It was hard enough to focus on the call. I had to go lie down afterwards, I was so tired from it.

I owled Hermione later. She was able to lift the charm she cast on her parents. She helped them move back to England and they’re living together now. I reckon they were really angry with her… but at least one of us got their family back.

She wrote she would be back at the Burrow soon.

She also wrote she wanted us to go back to Hogwarts for an eighth year. Shocking, I know.

Well she can go if she wants, and she can take Ron with her for all I care, but _I_ don’t want to go back there. I could help renovating only because I was so focused on _not_ thinking about collapsing. If I go back now, I know all I’ll be able to see are the corpses. All those lifeless bodies.

Not thinking about it.

…

Hermione has convinced Ron to go back. How did she do it I wonder. Well, now that they’re a couple, I’m sure I don’t want to know the details! Anyway, I guess if Ron agreed to it, it means he’s not ready to become an Auror. We haven’t talked about it yet, but I don’t want to be an Auror anymore and I think Ron is the same.

…

It seems passing our NEWTs is, oh, _so_ important to Ron now.

“Yeah, mate, we should all go back to Hogwarts for our last year. It will be nice to see everyone again. And we must pass our NEWTs even if the ministry offered us jobs. It’s not fair to have a job only because we’re famous now”.

Since _when_ is Ron so selfless? I’m _sure_ Hermione has had a hand in this. Maybe she threatened him or something. She’d better not try it with me!

…

Now, a week from the start of the academic year, they’re both still on my case. No matter how many times I tell them I’m not going back. And that I’m not going to work either.

“So, what, Harry, you’re just going to spend the school year in Grimmauld Place?” asks Hermione. She’s at the Burrow now. She guilt-tripped me into flooing her. I still don’t know how she did it!

_Well, yeah, Hermione, if I want to, I don’t see why I couldn’t! I have enough money to spend my whole life without working if I wanted! Fuck those fucking NEWTs!_

Hum. I don’t say that to Hermione of course. I might have a death wish but I want to die quickly and not painfully.

Instead I say:

“I need rest Hermione. I think it would be a good idea for me to take a sabbatical.”

Seems more tactful.

Doesn’t do the trick.

“Listen, Harry. We all can see you’re not well. You need help. I think you should see a mindhealer -”

“Pffrrttt!!!!” I’m choking on my own spit I’m so shocked! I’m starting to cough, and I can feel my cheeks reddening. What did she say? A _mindhealer_?! Is she fucking kidding me? Never!

“- but I know you.” Hermione continues, ignoring my coughing fit. “I know I can’t convince you. So, I’m going to pick my battles. Here is what I think: you can’t stay on your own this year. We left you alone for a month and you locked yourself up in this awful house you call home. Well no more, Harry James Potter!”

It’s never good when someone uses my full name. I brace myself against what I know will be something I don’t like.

“So, since you can’t be left alone, you have two choices. You can pick which one you prefer. And you can thank Ron for having a choice at all! If it were up to me, I would’ve been at your place weeks ago dragging you by your ear.” She’s ranting now. I’m starting to drift away.

A _mindhealer_. Pffft. I’m not _that_ bad, thanks!

“So, either you come to Hogwarts with Ron and myself, or we both come live at your place for the school year. Nobody will have their NEWTs, or everybody will pass them. It’s up to you, Harry.” She announces calmly. As if she doesn’t mind not passing her NEWTs.

This stops my thoughts about mindhealers. It stops my breathing as well. I think I stop moving. _She can’t be serious_. Not _Hermione Granger_ , addicted to studies. I know she’s pulling my leg with that threat. And if she thinks she can manipulate me as she does Ron, she’s sorely mistaken!

“Listen Hermione, I know how much you want to continue your education. You don’t have to go to this extent for me. I know I’m a little under the weather since I went to Grimmauld Place, but you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself and I won’t do anything stupid.” Even to my ears my voice sounds dead. I’m not sure I can fool her. I should’ve gone with calling her on her bullshit and not the reasonable voice. But I didn’t want to start a fight. Stupid of me, that.

“Harry, I love you, and I will do anything in my power to help you. Even if it costs me my NEWTs. And do stop lying to me, please. It’s disrespectful. You can tell the whole world you’re _a little under the weather_ -” I can hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

And I can feel my blood starting to boil from the anger always simmering in me these days. I tried to be nice to her since she’s obviously worrying about me. She doesn’t have to take her superior air with me as if I’m a child needed to be guided! I minimized my health status because I didn’t want her to worry! That was kindness from me! I didn’t _want_ to lie to her. She already has enough on her plate as it is to worry about me on top of everything. But now she’s calling me off as if I’ve just offended her greatly.

Well, come off your high horses Hermione! I’m not your kid!

But Hermione seems oblivious to what’s going on in my wrecked mind and she keeps going.

“- but, I tell you Harry, don’t even start telling Ron or myself you’re “a little under the weather”! One look at you, no, a _word_ from you, and we know it’s deeper than that. So, save us the time: stop lying to us. We can see through your bullshit.” Her cheeks are red as she swears. But they’re red from anger and not from shame.

I look at her as if she was a stranger. Since when does Hermione swear? I take a good look at her then. Her bushy hair is worse than usual, as if she has run her hand in it a few times. Maybe she has. I don’t recall. I wasn’t paying attention to her. I was mostly lost in my thoughts and my brain doesn’t always register what my eyes see.

Hermione’s eyes are shining from the emotion raging in her. I can see it even through the green of the Floo. Her lips are pursed in an angry line. Her hands seem to tremble slightly.

It downs on me then, how much I worry her. And Ron, I guess. For her to be that angry and call me on my “bullshit” as she says.

My own anger vanishes, as if sucked out of me. I’m left bereft of the only emotion who really kept me going. I’m just tired now. So very tired. I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. There’s nothing left in me.

So, I take her seriously and think about the choice she laid before me. Going to Hogwarts or living, just the three of us, in Grimmauld Place?

I try imagining us being roommates in time of peace. Hermione and Ron. An item at last. And I can’t do that to them. Being stuck with me in this dark house, with my dark mind and my dark thoughts.

At least, at Hogwarts, they’ll be able to see other people when it will be too much to stay with me. Because it _will_ be too much to stay with me. They are already moving forward. They want it so badly. To let the past behind. To let the war behind. To start living.

And I don’t. And this is my problem in a nutshell. I’m stuck. Stuck in the past. Stuck in my thoughts. Stuck in my feelings. Stuck in my grief. Stuck in my pain. _Stuck/stuck/stuck_.

Before I start feeling selfish again and decide to tell her to shove her choice up her arse (not in these words. Never in these words.) I open my mouth and I speak slowly.

“I hear you, Hermione. I’ll go to Hogwarts if it makes you feel better.”

I feel hollow now. It took me I had left in me to think seriously and speak this last sentence. It’s so difficult to make a choice. How did I do before, with so much responsibilities on my shoulders?

“Good, Harry. I will take care of everything. You just have to get out of bed on the 1st of September. I’ll buy the supplies and everything, don’t worry. Now go rest. I can see our conversation tired you out. I’ll see you then.” With a little smile that reaches her eyes, she cuts out the Floo.

I fall down on my knees, exhausted. On the hard, wooden floor. I can feel the cold sipping through my jeans. I don’t remember putting them on.

I lower my face in my hands, feeling my body sagging on itself, and I breathe through my fingers. Big, deep breathes.

I need to move. Turn off the Floo so that no one can reach me. Get up and go to bed. But I’m so worn out it’s hard to just stay upright on the floor. It’s even hard to keep breathing.

I feel used. Did they really have to make me feel guilty and ashamed? I don’t want them to worry about me. I didn’t ask them to make life changing decisions because of me. I shouldn’t have agreed to go back to Hogwarts. I should’ve let Hermione and Ron come live with me and we would have been miserable together. And it would have been their own fault. I didn’t ask anybody for help.

Deep breathes. The need to turn off the Floo and be left alone wins over the catatonic state my body was getting into. Then, I lift myself up and go back to my room. I knew I should’ve stayed in bed today.

The door creaks when I open it. The whole room is left in the dark. I didn’t bother to open the curtains. I don’t see anything, but after living in the dark for so long, I make my way easily to my bed.

I undress and leave all my clothes on the floor. I lie, naked, on my bed. My eyes are open, fixing the ceiling, even though they could be closed it’s so dark in the room.

I will fucking kill them all.


	3. Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Here is chapter 3.  
> Thanks a lot for all of who gave me kudos!!! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well :)

Chapter 3

**HERMIONE**

I’m worried about Harry.

When I heard he went to Grimmauld Place to restore it, I thought it was a good idea. It wasn’t healthy to busy himself as he did after the war. I thought having some time to himself would help him grieve in peace.

I don’t say that a lot but, I was wrong. Merlin, was I _wrong_.

I didn’t see it coming. I mean, of course I knew the war took a toll on Harry. But he always seemed to get it together, at one point or another, before. I guess I thought he was used to it. Now I know it was stupid of me. _Nobody_ gets used to grieving and fighting.

In my defense I wasn’t in a good place myself after the war. And of the three of us, Ron seemed to have the hardest time. Harry seemed to cope with it however he could. And he took care of Ron and his family so well. That’s why I could leave and find my parents. Because I knew Harry was with them.

I wanted to stay. Really. But after Fred’s death I just couldn’t get out of my head how much family was important. I _had_ to find my parents and try everything I could to give them their memories back.

I remember when I arrived in Australia. It’s the end of fall there in May. It was colder than in England but nowhere near freezing. The sun was shining. A perfect day really.

I had to take a taxi to get to my parents’ house. I couldn’t apparate because I had never been there. The drive was long. So long. Australia’s so big. But I arrived at my parents’ place. It was a Sunday and I could see them in their garden. Laughing. Enjoying the sun with a glass of wine. So happy. Without me.

I cried for what felt like hours watching them. I was torn between desperation that they didn’t need me, even though I knew - _I knew_ \- that was stupid, and happiness at seeing them safe and happy. Seeing that the obliviate charm didn’t damage them.

I eventually walked up to them. And just lifted the charm. So simple. So easy.

I’ve never been happier in my life than when I was able to lift the charm I had cast on my parents.

For the life of me I couldn’t stop the tears that started rolling on my cheeks at that moment. It started slowly and it just built up. I couldn’t stop weeping.

I could see the shock on my parents’ faces, the anger and the worry. So much worry. I could see through the tears that they were overwhelmed. They didn’t know what to do. What to think, I’m sure, given all the emotions that passed through their faces.

And that was just too much for me. Too much relief. Too much stress. Too much traveling. Too much worry. Too much.

I fell to my knees. I think I hit a rock because I had a bruise for days, but I didn’t feel a thing then. I cried harder and I could hear myself nearly shouting while I was crying. My parents just fell on the ground beside me and took me in their arms.

I cried and cried from the relief at having my parents back. I’ve never cried more in my life than on this day.

My parents were so angry with me, I think. But they couldn’t do a thing about it because I couldn’t stop sobbing. They just kept murmuring sweet nothings and stroked my back and hair.

By the time I had calmed down, my parents were just happy to see me. We had a big talk the day after and they told me all they thought about me obliviating them, but I was too elated to really care.

We stayed in Australia for the remaining of May and all of June. My parents had started to build a life there and they had a lot of things to take care of, before going back to England.

And I, I enjoyed the holidays. Australia. No war there. No Voldemort. It’s a huge country and the people are always cheerful. I had a great time. I was just too selfish to think about the people at home. I wasn’t there for the funerals or the trials or the rebuilding of Hogwarts in July. It’s so unlike me. But I wasn’t really myself at the time.

I spent July and the first half of August in England with my parents. I owled Ron and Harry every week. And I could read how they were doing as Ron answered more and more and Harry less and less.

I moved to the Burrow for the second half of August. Life had won over death, and it was good to see them. It was good to see Ron and reestablish our relationship.

Everyone was starting to worry about Harry by this time. I had to send him a howler for him to open his Floo connection. Well it did the trick, so I don’t feel bad about it. Harry flooed the Burrow afterwards so that’s my win.

When Headmistress McGonagall sent the letters about opening an 8th year for the students who weren’t able to pass their NEWTs during the war, I saw it as the remedy to all our problems. I could feel that Ron couldn’t start Auror training. I’m not even sure he still wants to become an Auror.

I think it will also help Harry overcome what he’s going through. He should be able to see what his actions during the war brought. He should see Hogwarts during a time of peace. He should see the people he helped save, enjoying their lives. Harry should be living. Not existing in this mausoleum he calls a home. He should experience a student’s life for once.

One more year at Hogwarts is a great opportunity to think about the future. It didn’t take me long to have Ron adhere to the cause.

Actually, I think it’s really important we all go back to Hogwarts so that our last memories of being students there aren’t the ones we have from the war. It can only help us.

…

I’ve just ended my talk on the Floo with Harry. He’s so much worse than I thought. He’s even more unkempt than usual. He lost so much weight his clothes are hanging from him.

And his eyes. And his voice. It’s like he’s dead inside. He doesn’t even have the will to fight for what he wants anymore. I only had to lay a little guilt on him for him to agree to go back to Hogwarts. He used to be so strong-willed before. Especially against Malfoy.

His green eyes are extinct now. There’s no more fire in them. No more life. I can feel the tears building in my eyes.

“Hey ‘Mione, how did it go with Harry?” Ron asks, entering the room.

I turn my head. I see his red hair. His tired blue eyes. The bags under them, telling me he doesn’t sleep well. His freckled face. And I burst into tears.

He stops in his tracks for a brief moment and then he’s all over me. His arms around my waist. His face on my head. Squishing me into him. I’m safe. Merlin, I love him.

“Shhh, ‘Mione. Everything’s okay. What did the prat say to upset you so much? Has he refused both options? We knew it was a possibility. You don’t have to cry, we still have other plans to get him out of his shell.” He whispers into my hair between soft kisses on my forehead.

I start to calm down and can answer him between sobs.

“N-No, Ron. Actually Har-Harry agreed on going back to H-Hogwarts.”

“Well that’s great, love. I knew if anyone could get him out of Grimmauld Place it would be you! Why are you crying then?” he furrows his brows, obviously starting to worry.

I take a deep breath to anchor me so that I can answer without breaking down once again.

“It’s Harry, Ron. He’s not well. Not at all. He looks… he looks like he’s dead. He didn’t even really fight going back to Hogwarts, even though I could see it was really bothering him. I think he’s really depressed. He told me he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but I wonder - ”

“Hold your horses, ‘Mione! Harry’s not going to _kill_ himself! Not after everything he’s gone through! Even if he _did_ want to die, he wouldn’t do that to us. I’m sure of it.” Says Ron vehemently, shocked by what I said.

“You don’t understand, Ron. He looked on the verge of collapsing. I’m not sure he even sleeps or eats. We have to check on him every day! At least to make sure he eats. I think he doesn’t want to make us worry, so if we go there to eat with him, he should force himself to eat with us.” I’m already starting to make a plan in my head to help Harry get better before going to Hogwarts.

“I’m not sure Harry will like that…” Ron interrupts my thoughts, uncertain.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t, but we have to keep an eye on him. We shouldn’t have left him on his own for the most part of a month! What kind of friends are we? We’ve basically left our best friend waste away without doing anything. After all he’s done for us! Merlin, I feel so selfish! Here I was, enjoying my parents, when Harry was letting himself die…”

“Okay, that’s enough ‘Mione.” Ron cuts me in my ranting, starting to show anger. ‘Did Harry tell you we abandoned him?’

“No, he didn’t. But - ”

“No buts. It won’t do any good to let the guilt take over. You’re the most brilliant witch I know, Hermione. If someone can help Harry, it’s you. Don’t feel bad about going to your parents. Nobody thinks you’re selfish. If Harry wanted company, he would’ve had it. Maybe the mood was too… dark here to be comfortable, but he could’ve gone to Andromeda to see his godson or gone to see Luna or anyone, really. He just didn’t want to see anyone, and he would’ve pushed us away if we had insisted on seeing him before now. What’s important is that we’re here for him now, and it’s not too late.” Ron finishes wisely.

After the Horcruxes debacle and Fred’s loss, Ron has become an adult it seems. I’m going to miss his lightheartedness. But his wisdom is quite welcome right now.

“You’re right. You’re right, Ron. I’m sorry. It’s just… the sight of him… it was too much. We need to check on him even though he will push us away. I feel he doesn’t want to see us. Maybe it would be good for him to be roommate with someone else at Hogwarts?” I ask, the idea just popping in my head. “The Headmistress told me she’s amenable to put Harry and you in the same room, so I might be able to persuade her to room him with someone of our choosing.”

“I don’t know. I was really exited to be roommates with him again. But I guess you’re right. When I flooed him two weeks ago it felt like he didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe we’re too close to him. It might do him good to stay with someone who challenges him and makes him do things.” Ron agrees uncertainly.

“Well who would be a good match amongst the 8 years? I know we’ll all be in the same quarters, all Houses mixed because not a lot of us will be returning.”

“Well, Neville told me he would be going back but he wouldn’t challenge Harry. I don’t really know about the other guys though.” Ron explains.

“Maybe someone from another House? Harry would be more challenged with someone he’s never lived with. Who do we know?” I wonder.

“If we’re looking for a challenge, a Slytherin would do nicely!” Ron laughs, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“You’re so stupid sometimes!” I retort, exasperated. But the more I think about it… “Well, actually, maybe you’re on to something. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” I say, excitedly.

Ron looks at me, still laughing, and slowly starting to turn green when it sinks in that I’m seriously considering housing Harry with a Slytherin.

“After all, who do we know that’s always challenged Harry, for better or worse?”

Horror. On Ron’s face.

“NO! You can’t be serious!!!” he shouts, horrified. “Tell me you’re pulling my leg! You can’t consider asking one of those backstabbing Slytherin to become Harry’s roommate! And not even any Slytherin but Ferret Face! That’s so much worse! DON’T YOU REMEMBER ALL HE’S DONE TO US? HAVE YOU ALREADY FORGOTTEN WHEN WE WERE IN THIS _MANOR_ OF HIS?” he spats the word manor as if it disgusts him, rage taking control of his face and deforming his traits as his voice echoes in the room, and I’m relieved I had the foresight to cast a muffliato before I called Harry.

I feel my blood receding from my cheeks at the memory of Malfoy Manor. I can still feel the word ‘mudblood” being carved in my skin forever. Carved in my memory forever.

“Calm down, Ron. First, I’m not sure of anything. I mean, I only know that if we want someone to make Harry react, the best person on earth would be Malfoy. Second, I didn’t forget anything. And as I recall, Malfoy was more of an ally than an enemy back in his manor. I have a lot of griefs with him, but not from that time! He’s changed, Ron. I could see that. There was no fight left in him by the end of the war. I’m sure living with Voldemort was punition enough for all he’s done to us. And I will remind you Harry’s the one who testified for him and kept him out of Azkaban! Anyway, I don’t know his whereabouts or what he’s become. I _do_ know that he sent each person he had slighted a letter of apology. I’m sure it was mandatory after his trial, but his words in the letter I received where sincere, Ron. And yeah, maybe it’s not such a good idea. I don’t know what kind of person he is now. Maybe he resents Harry for saving him. I don’t know! It was just a THOUGHT! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SHOUT! The only thing I KNOW for sure is that Harry needs help, and he doesn’t respond to us anymore. We need to find someone who will make him react. And if it takes MALFOY to do that, well, I DON’T MIND! OKAY, RONALD?! I DON’T MIND! I WILL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO HELP OUR BEST FRIEND! HE DESERVES IT! HE DESERVES TO LIVE HAPPILY!” I’m shouting now. My emotions are all over the place. I can feel I’m starting to weep again, but I don’t really pay it any attention. Ron has gone quiet and is livid now. All color seems to have left his usually colorful face. He watches me as if I’ve gone crazy. I sure feel like it, right now.

“Hermione… I’m sorry.” He starts. He seems to deflate, anger leaving his body. “I didn’t mean to make you remember the manor. It’s just… you know I hate Malfoy…”

“We have to move on, Ron. Everyone changed with the war. If we keep holding grudges, we can’t move on. We’ll only be stuck in the past. It’s time to focus on the future now. That’s why we fought. To have a future. I’m not asking you to _like_ Malfoy. I’m just asking you to considerate him as… a tool, shall I say, if it makes you feel better? A tool to help Harry get better.” The word “tool” tastes like ashes in my mouth. I feel bad to consider anyone as a _tool_. Voldemort considered everyone a tool. I’m better than this. But I need Ron to be on my side. We can’t let personal grudges get in the way of Harry’s wellbeing.

“Well, if you put it like that…” Ron looks thoughtful, digesting the notion. “I guess I can accept that. Using Malfoy to help Harry. The git owes Harry anyway.” As the idea grows on him, Ron looks more and more cheerful. My manipulation skills are on fire today! First, Harry’s coming to Hogwarts, and now Ron’s thinking about rooming Malfoy and Harry. All in a day’s work. I’m starting to be quite proud of myself!

“Nothing’s set in stones, Ron. As I was saying, Malfoy seemed to have changed, but we still can’t trust him. I think we need to devise a plan to find out where he is. We could go talk to him or watch him from afar, I’m not too sure which is best-“

“Hum… actually, and it pains me to say it, we can trust him.” Ron drops, looking as if he’s just sucked a lemon.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he owes Harry life debts. And he’s a pureblood.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do that purebloods have few rules, but those rules are unbreakable. One of these rules is that if a pureblood has a life debt, he _must_ repay it, be it by saving their creditor’s life or by spending their life trying to help them. But for it to work, one has to call on the life debt. That’s why Malfoy is not actively following Harry around currently. He helped us at the end of the war because he was in front of us and, I guess, he was in over his head with Voldemort and couldn’t caution his actions anymore.” Ron explains.

“But Harry will never call on his life debts.” I say, disheartened.

“The beauty of it, ‘Mione, is that anyone can call on it as long as it’s in the best interest of the creditor.” Ron answer, smiling now, glee in his eyes. “After all, if the creditor had been abducted it wouldn’t do him any good not to be able to call on his debtor.”

“So, you mean to say that _we_ can call on Malfoy’s life debts for Harry? And Malfoy would basically be, what, a slave dedicated to save Harry?”

“That’s it ‘Mione. If we call on the debts, Malfoy won’t be able to do anything to hurt Harry!”

“But isn’t it contrary to what we want to do? We want someone to push Harry to his limits. Not a puppy following Harry around, protecting from everything!” this is maddening! I was sure we had found the perfect person to stay with Harry! Now we have to do it all again.

“Don’t worry. Malfoy will still be himself. He just won’t be able to do permanent damage to Harry. For example, they can still fight verbally or physically, but if the fight goes too far, Malfoy will be pulled to stop it.”

“Well, in that case” I answer, hope returning and making my heart beat faster, “I think we’ve found the perfect wizard to help us in our endeavor. Harry won’t know what hit him. He’ll be quite angry. And it’s always better to be angry than on Death’s doors.”

I kiss Ron quickly on the lips. I have things to plan and the Headmistress to floo.


	4. Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter! With everything that's happening with the Covid-19 I just didn't have the heart to write. But, well, I'm stuck in Australia and I can't go back to France (they're in lock down) so I've got lots of time on my hands and I tried to write.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and that it will make sense to you. I always fear my writing is weird.  
> Feel free to comment if there's anything!
> 
> Stay safe everyone and thanks again for reading me!!

Chapter 4

**DRACO**

I don’t understand what’s just happened.

I blink, confused. It’s most undignified to show one’s emotions on one’s face, but I just can’t get my head around the last few hours.

Only this morning, my life was… predictable. A little bleak maybe. But bleak is good. Bleak is _perfect_ compared to the life I led whilst the Dark Lord was living with us.

I shudder at the memory, cold invading my body even though it’s so hot outside.

Most undignified indeed.

I used to be so good at showing only what I wanted. The Dark Lord only saw fear on my face. Ahah. Well, that wasn’t so hard to do. But sometimes it took a lot of will to _only_ show fear, and not the hatred I felt towards the invaders in my home.

I can feel disgust disrupting my face. _Draco, do get a grip on yourself for Salazar’s sake!_ I think to myself.

I can only surmise that the last events have unsettled me more than I thought possible.

And whose fault is that? _Potter_ , of course. Who else, eh? Always _Potter_! Fucking savior in need of saving.

I’m starting to swear now. Brilliant. Only the Golden Trio can make me devolve myself to a peasant level.

Well, I don’t care! No, I _fucking_ don’t care! There!

I take a few deep breaths. Inhale through my mouth and exhale through my nose. I feel a little more settled.

…

My family and myself came by a few… hardships after the war. We were incarcerated whilst waiting for our trials. Aurors went to the Manor and divested us of pretty much anything material. Or rather, what was left of it. The Death Eaters had happily helped themselves during their stay.

Useless to say we were quite distraught, in our separate cells. It gave me time to think. I had already gathered that I didn’t adhere in the Dark Lord’s beliefs anymore. And all this thinking just comforted me in my way. I was so sure, then, that I would be granted the Kiss. I was just hoping the Wizengamot would spare my mother since she never was a Death Eater. But there was no doubt in my mind that my father and I would either be sent to Azkaban to suffer or Kissed on the spot.

But Harry Potter wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t have a hero complex and tried to save everyone and anyone. Even his enemies. Thanks to his testimony none of my family went to Azkaban. My father was put on house arrest, wandless, for the remainder of his life. My mother was put on house arrest for 5 years but permitted to use magic. And I was put on probation. Wandless and house arrest for 2 years. I had to take Muggle lessons, write apologies and report regularly to the ministry to consult a mindhealer who would inform the Wizengamot of my progress. They were really lenient with me. Mostly because they thought I was young enough to be saved. Young enough that I was considered brain-washed.

I guess I _was_ brain-washed. I used to worship the ground beneath my father’s feet. I would’ve done anything for him to praise me. And I believed him. Without questions. It took Hogwarts for me to start thinking by myself. It took the Golden Trio constantly shoving in my face the groundless reasonings of my upbringing. After all, one can only be academically bested so many times by a muggle-born before grudgingly acknowledging muggle-borns aren’t so much beneath one’s self. And those red-haired blood-traitors. They should’ve been living in poverty and shame. Granted, they weren’t so rich, but each time I would lay my eyes on one of their freckled faces I could see how they enjoyed their deviant lives. They seemed to live much more fully than I ever did. I reckon, when you’re so content, your life choices might not have been so bad. Not so bad at all. I think I resented them a little, seeing their… liberty. Their straightforwardness. Their freedom to make friends with whomever they chose. The only choice I ever made before going to Hogwarts was my decision to be friends with the most celebrated Harry Potter. See how _that_ turned out. As a Malfoy, I was taught that I was entitled to have whatever I wanted. The Boy who Lived showed me wrong. He showed my _father_ wrong. And I hated him for it. I hated them all for disrupting my beliefs.

I didn’t hate them so much when I was stewing in my cell though. Too tired to hate anyone really; even myself.

Sixth year was the turning point for me. It wasn’t so great to be a pureblood anymore. What’s the point in being above everyone when you have an evil being as a master? When you’re too afraid to do anything? My own mighty father had become a fearful slave. Everything I had once stood for was only a big, huge pile of nothing.

I was just too far gone to attempt to change. I had to keep my family alive. And even though I regret so many of my actions and inactions during the war, I just know that I would do it all over again to protect my mother.

At least the war taught me something: Malfoys are great fighters with their words but not so much with their fists. We are not all-powerful. And I am definitely _not_ brave.

I shouldn’t be dwelling on that. Moving on!

The wizengamot sent us on our merry way after the trials. We went back to this nightmarish place of a manor. A huge manor full of emptiness. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t so bad to have to refurnish the place. I don’t think I could’ve stopped myself from gagging if I had had to lay eyes on the table where poor Professor Burbage was vilified and murdered… I feel the bile raising in my throat just remembering her name.

I’m not thinking about it!

The Ministry took half of our money to help pay for the damages we caused during the war. It still left us more than well-off. I don’t really understand why they didn’t take everything, from our lands to our vaults. I guess they think that if we’re not thrown out on the streets we won’t try to get revenge and we’ll just lay low.

With all these galleons and this enormous manor to refurbish, it only took us a few days to find out what we would be doing as a house-arrested family. It seems like a long time to make such an obvious decision but when we first came back to Malfoy Manor, the reality hadn’t quite caught up with us yet. We were somewhat frazzled. It seemed to me like we were three ghosts haunting the hallways. Fortuitously, the Ministry had left two old house elves who had refused to leave the Manor, because we would’ve starved to death without them, and then, we really would’ve been haunting the manor!

Dinners were a fairly sordid affair at the beginning. My parents both looked haggard, it was as if they didn’t know what was happening, what to do. I can only assume I didn’t fare much better than them. I recall this feeling of… unreality. Everything had a sort of dream quality. It felt so… odd being out of the cells. Being out at all, really. I think we all assumed we should’ve been dead by now. And being free, well, mostly free, seemed like a dream or a miracle. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did happen, and it happened fast. One morning we were at the trials and the afternoon we were escorted to Malfoy Manor. I didn’t think I would ever see it again. This bloody manor. So, yeah, it took us a little time to adjust, for it to sink. Each night I would dread to go to sleep, thinking it was all a dream (and because of the nightmares; I shouldn’t lie to myself) and that I would wake up in my cell or, worse, in Azkaban. I believed, for a time, that my mind had just created an ideal alternative for me to live in, in order to escape the dementors. But every night the nightmares would come and, every morning, I would wake up in my own bed, and I would feel relieved to tears. I didn’t cry, mind you, but the feeling was there, nonetheless. Eventually, my parents and I started to relax, step by step, day by day. We started to talk to each other during dinners. The tension in our shoulders dissolving a little more each day. It was like a weight had been lifted from our shoulders. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents acting so… natural. It was as if the misery of the war had mellowed them. We didn’t talk much, but it was still good. It felt like a second chance had been handed to us and we finally started living. I could see the three of us were worn-out, but nothing could dampen this feeling of _peace_.

Accordingly, I spent my summer in a calming daily routine. Nothing fancy. I tried to expunge from the manor all traces of the war. My mandatory muggle studies served me well ironically. Wandless and magic-restricted, I had to learn the muggle ways to go about my routine. I was so surprised to discover how clever were the Muggles! They can do so many things without magic! They’ve invented such a huge number of devices. I’m not comfortable using them since they all look like some kind of killing machines… but I’m sure they’re useful. I’m just flabbergasted at how I used to be oblivious before. I’m still not a fan of Muggles but I can see now that they’re a force to be reckoned with. I feel quite humbled.

So, I cleaned the house and helped Mother choosing furniture. The house elves helped with some chores, but I wanted to be the one to clean. I wanted to see the stains vanish before my eyes. It wouldn’t have seemed real otherwise.

…

The summer passed in a sort of blur. Each day the same as the day before. It was pretty dull really. Bleak even. Dinner time was the only reprieve from the hopelessness and the shame. Dinner time was a bubble enveloping my family. We learnt to really know each other without artifice, without expectation. A breeze of fresh air. We had seen the worst in each other and there was nothing left of us except our cores. Raw feelings. Apart from those little breaks in my days, I had plenty of time to think. To relieve the last few years as I moved from one room to another. There was so much shame in me. So much disappointment in myself. In my father. In my mother as well. I love her dearly but she, too, stood by the beliefs of the purebloods. Only, her love for her family took precedence above anything else.

I tried to think about my future, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see myself going back to the wizarding world. The few times I had to go to the Ministry, for my weekly appointment with the mindhealer, had me close to a panic attack. I could see the animosity in the people I crossed paths with. I could feel the hatred and it ate at me. The insults and jinxes were nothing unexpected. What was unexpected, though, was the Ministry’s reaction to the bullying. It didn’t take it well. People starting fights with anyone where heavily sanctioned, even if they were trying to start a fight with me. That lessened the bullying a little but not completely. After a few times, an Auror was appointed to guard me and I started to walk in the ministry wearing my Malfoy mask. It felt better knowing I didn’t show others they could hurt me. It was my only retaliation. Wearing the mask and act as if I wasn’t ashamed. _A Malfoy doesn’t show weakness to anyone_ , would say my father when I was a kid. Hence, I act as if nothing can bother me. It works a little. At least it keeps the panic at bay.

…

When I received Headmistress McGonagall’s letter about opening an eighth year and inviting me to join, I laughed. I burned the letter afterwards. I can’t begin to fathom _why_ she would ask an ex-Death Eater to her school. After everything I’ve done! What a joke. The war must’ve messed with her brains. She even wrote that special courses would be allotted since I can’t do magic. She thought of everything, the fool. She was most insistent I return to Hogwarts. I only bothered to reply because I had so much time on my hands. 

…

Just a few days before September, a house elf interrupted our breakfast, wrenching his hands in nervousness.

“Masters.” the house elf nearly burst into tears, speaking in a squeaky voice. “There are Aurors at the door. They insist to seeing Master Draco!”

Aurors. On our door-step. Dread. Fear. I felt my blood leaving my face. My whole body became cold and it took everything in me to keep me from trembling.

My parents were as pallid as I was feeling, sending worried glances towards the wooden doors of the breakfast room.

“Thank you, Diddy. Show them to the blue parlour and bring tea and scones, please.” Said my mother in a tight voice. Always so quick to recover, bless her.

“Yes, Mistress.” answered Diddy, bowing low and disapparating in a ‘pop’.

“Do you have any idea why Aurors would want to see you, dear?” asked my mother softly.

I shook myself out of my stupor, feeling my face slipping in its undisturbed mask. “I don’t, mother. I guess we will find out soon enough.”

“Very well, then. Shall we? It’s unbecoming to make guests wait.” And she raised gracefully from her seat, extending me her hand. As I took it to stand, I could see my father had left his chair as well, donning the Malfoy mask. We would be confronting the Aurors as a united front.

“Lead the way, Lucius, darling.” Ordered my mother, taking my arm in hers.

We went to the parlour at a sedate pace, walking the newly painted hallways. The house still seemed empty, but we had renovated it well. It was starting to become a home again. I could hear my heart beating faster and faster as we approached the dreaded room. When we reached the door, I took a steadying breath before nodding to Father, signaling him to open the door.

Two Aurors, a man and a woman, stood stiffly in the parlour, both wearing their job’s red robes. The tea tray was left untouched on the ancient ebony coffee table. They both turned at the same time as we entered the room. The man was a little shorter than his colleague, slightly fat but still muscular. He had brown, short hair and warm, brown eyes. Laugh lines marked his face. He sported a little smile and looked faintly amused. The woman had Asian traits. She was taller than your average witch. Her lean body seemed to have too much energy and she couldn’t stay completely still, twitching either her hands, feet, shoulders or any part of her body. Her long, slick, black hair was attached in a ponytail. She had hard, brown almond eyes. Her mouth was pinched in a thin line. She looked unhappy.

“Welcome, Aurors. Please, take a seat so that we can talk about what have brought you here more comfortably.” My mother told them regally; always the proper hostess.

“No, thanks, Ma’am. Our business shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. No point in getting settled down. We just need your son to come with us.” Said the woman briskly.

I heard my father take a sharp breath and felt my mother straightening her spine rigidly, still holding my arm in hers, whilst alarms rang in my head. Come with them? What did I do that I had to be escorted by two Aurors?

“Er… no cause for alarm, really. My colleague can be a little… straightforward sometimes. Why don’t we take you up on your kind offer, Mrs. Malfoy, and have a seat? I could do with a cuppa.” Said the man, sending warning looks to his colleague, his brows furrowed. The witch just rolled her eyes and sat on a blue settee, her arms crossed. Her colleague joined her and started pouring tea in the delicate china cups placed on the tea tray.

Looking at my parents warily, I gave them a little nod. We then all took place around the tea table. My father in the armchair presiding the table and my mother and I in the settee opposite the Aurors.

When we were all settled with a cup of tea, the wizard picked up the conversation.

“First, let me introduce my colleague, Auror Fang, and myself, Auror Brownon. We were sent to escort Mr. Draco Malfoy to the Ministry. But, do not worry, young man, you are not in any kind of trouble. It appears that an important matter has arisen and Minister Shackelbolt is in need of your services. We are not privy of whatever the matter is, though.”

“I find it hard to believe I’m not in trouble when the Minister sends two Aurors to my home whereas an owl would’ve sufficed.” I replied doubtfully.

“I would’ve preferred to be chasing errant wizards but instead I’m stuck _babysitting_ an ex-Death Eater. We can’t always get what we want.” Fang said. And I swear she looked more despondent about the babysitting part than for the ex-Death Eater one!

Looking back, I guess I should’ve been relieved to find out she didn’t really mind about the Death Eater thing. But at the time, it took all my efforts not to sputter in my tea after hearing her describing her mission as babysitting. I was _most_ offended by that term!

“There, there, Fang. Let it go.” Replied Brownon, patting her hand a few times. It seemed to me that the argument wasn’t new.

“Would you be so kind as to explain to us what exactly entails this babysitting job?” enquired my mother calmly. But I could see through her mask she was amused. Amused! I knew if she hadn’t been in front of guests she would’ve smiled! Laughed maybe! It was really hard for me to keep from showing the disgruntlement from my face. After the war it was becoming harder and harder for me to avoid my emotions and it showed.

“As I told you before, we do not know the specifics of the matter. We were ordered by the Minister himself to come fetch young Malfoy as soon as possible. He told us there was an urgent matter only Mr. Malfoy here could help with. To avoid any trouble the Minister thought it would be better to send two Aurors instead of the usual one.” Brownon explained, faintly amused, looking at me.

“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice in following you to the Ministry.” I said, raising from my seat. “Since it seems quite urgent, let’s not let the good Minister wait.” The two Auror were already setting their cups on the table and raising. I turned to my parents.

“Mother, Father, it seems I must take my leave. I’ll see you later.” As my parents were raising from their seat as well, I could see they were still a little nervous about this “urgent matter”. But I couldn’t do anything to set them at ease, so I just opened the doors and followed the Aurors until we were out of the Manor grounds, where they side-apparated me.

…

No one even tried to look at me at the Ministry. Not with two Aurors flanking my sides; one of them a witch looking like she wanted some action and wouldn’t mind a fight.

In no time I was ushered in front of the Minister’s doors and, without allowing me time to take a breath, Fang knocked on the door and opened it. It must’ve been quite the urgency if we didn’t even have to wait for an answer from the bloody _Minister_.

Shackelbolt was serenely seated at his desk, looking pleased. There was no trace of urgency that I could sense. What was happening? Then I heard the sound of chairs scraping floor and I turned my eyes toward the sound.

_What the…_

“Hi, Malfoy! How’s it going?” asked _Weasley_ of all people, looking uncertain. He stood between the chair he must have occupied, his arm moving toward me and retracting, looking as if he didn’t know if he could shake my hand. Beside him was Granger in all her hairiness. She looked at me with calculating eyes; and I’m ashamed to say, that look scared me. What had she done?

I think I stood there, looking at them, mask all but forgotten, gobsmacked, probably opening and closing my mouth like a fish, for what seemed like long minutes but probably for only a few seconds. Granger was actually the one who put me out of my fishy misery by taking a step toward me and extending her hand. I took it without thinking, my upbringing kicking in.

“Hi, Malfoy. Thanks for coming, I wasn’t sure you would.” She told me with the shadow of a smile, uncertain, but with a strong handshake.

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice.” I turned to glare at the two Aurors standing by the doors. They both smiled unrepentantly.

“Sorry we must have forgotten that part. We’ve got some other duties to do so just call us when you need us, Minister.” Said Fang almost happily. Happy to get off babysitting I was sure! And I watched the both of them walking out of the room and closing the doors whilst the Minister was lazily waving at them, still looking at me. That reminded me to get a grip on myself. I tried to stand straighter and put the Malfoy mask back on, but I could definitely feel some cracks. I think one of my eyes was twitching with nerves.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy. Choice or not, it’s good of you to have joined us so quickly. Please, do take a seat. We have a lot to talk about!” Minister Shackelbolt told me, pointing to the chair next to Granger. I sat without glancing toward the Golden Trio. Or should it be the Golden Duo as their Survivor part was missing?

“Minister Shackelbolt, first I would like to thank you for trusting me with this… matter. I will do my utmost best to help you in any way I can, rest assured. I just do not understand how I can be of any use to you since I am magic-restricted?” I spoke all in one breath for fear I wouldn’t be brave enough to ask later. I was so overwhelmed at that time I didn’t really mind asking explanations about the _Minister’s_ choices.

“We are actually seeking help from _yourself_ , Mr. Malfoy, and not from any magical abilities you may or may not possess, so do not worry about such details. Everything will shortly be explained to you in more details by Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley here. Let me insist on one point, though. We are faced with a highly sensitive matter pertaining to the private life of one famous wizard to whom we are all indebted. Everything said in this room, and anything regarding this subject later on, must stay between the four of us, as well as Headmistress McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey who have both been appraised of the details.” That sent my thoughts to overdrive. McGonagall? Pomfrey? What did they have to do with anything? I had guessed that this _famous wizard to whom we are all indebted_ must’ve been none other than the one and only Harry Potter, bane of my existence, but what was the Hogwarts staff doing in all this? Really, in what new catastrophe our Mighty Savior had found himself, _again_? Couldn’t he stay _safe_ for a whole summer? Was it too much to ask of him?

Had the Dark Lord come back?! Was that why only the Minister was aware of the matter at hands? Salazar, I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster and all the blood leaving my body. I think I started trembling, but I didn’t notice a thing, my mind kindly supplying me with the worst-case scenarios it could think of. Why was Potter absent anyway? Was he _dead_? Nearly dead and stuck at Hogwarts’s infirmary with Pomfrey? Was that why they were in on the secret? But why would they need me? I was driving myself crazy, slowly dying of dread on my chair, when Granger, who must have guessed where my thoughts where going, started to talk.

“Don’t worry, Draco” Draco? DRACO?! What did they want me to do? Did they want to sacrifice me on some altar in the hope of bringing back the Chosen One? I was sure they would ask something awful of me for her, the one who was _tortured_ in my home, to call me by my given name! “Nothing’s really bad happened and we won’t ask anything dangerous of you.” She continued with a little smile, looking me in the eyes. Well, that didn’t make me worry less! It just made matters worse! Since when did anyone from the Trio smile friendly at me? Just kill me already! Now I knew why Potter kept me from Azkaban: it was for better torturing me when I thought I was safe! The man should’ve gone to Slytherin for coming up with this plan!

I started to frantically look around me, searching for escape routes. But Shackelbolt was between me and the only window of the office, and I was quite sure some Aurors were standing guard on the other side of the doors. I was so thoroughly fucked. Granger put her hand on my arm and I just jumped from my chair, making an undignified yelp that I will swear until I die never crossed my lips. So much for the Malfoy mask and their dignity. I never could pull it off anyway. Too short-tempered.

“What do you want, _Granger_?” I tried to emphasize her last name to remind her we were _not_ on a first name basis. And if my voice sounded a little higher than usual, nobody remarked on it. “Just tell me already. You’re just torturing me with all your innuendos. And all this kindness you’re showing is just weird, okay? It’s not _right_! You should hate me, not smile at me for Merlin’s sake! What’s wrong with you, woman? Unless you want to ask me something really unpleasant…” I said, narrowing my eyes when I noticed the look of uneasiness she sported after my little tirade.

“First, _Draco_ , I think we’ve known each other long enough to start calling each other by our first names, doesn’t it, Ronald?” and she turned toward her red-haired boyfriend, expecting him to agree with her. ‘ _As if’,_ I thought, enjoying the greenish look of disgust on Weasel’s face.

“… Yeah, ‘Mione, you’re right. You can call me Ron, Mal-D-Draco” and he looked like he was going to be sick! “I still don’t like you, but I appreciated your letter of apology I guess.” And with that, Weas- _Ron_ turned his gaze, looking everywhere but me, looking so ill at ease I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t so gobsmacked. Triumphantly, the Brain continued:

“See, I- _We_ think we should let bygones be bygones. The war was awful for everybody involved. I think for Harry and you especially. You’ve got a lot in common, the both of you” and I could see the way Weasley’s eyes almost popped out of his head from the shock of hearing his girlfriend utter such nonsense. I would’ve laughed hysterically if my brain hadn’t simply given up and shut down for the foreseeable future. I just kept on listening to Granger’s speech without moving, wondering if I was having a weird dream. “You see, Draco, we’ve been on bad terms for all of our Hogwarts years, but after receiving your letter of apology, I – _we_ thought we could start over. All is not forgotten or forgiven so short after the war but I’m – _we’re_ sure if we can try to understand each other, everything will be better. Wars happen when people are afraid of the unknown, so it’s our duty to do everything in our power to not make the same mistakes than our predecessors!” she was a little breathless after talking so much without taking a breath. Her eyes were shinning, and I could see she was really believing in her naïve ideas. Well, it was not my place to destroy her illusions. My brain wasn’t working anyway. I was just trying not to laugh each time she was saying I and, afterwards, correcting herself with we; as if the Weasel agreed with her. And I only sat there, brain gone and all, sending wary glances her way – because I could feel this was just the beginning of some sort of impending doom – and finally locking eyes with Weasley, who looked so defeated and _repentant_ , I just couldn’t stand being in this room a second longer.

Here was not my place. I shouldn’t be admitted in the Minister’s office as if I was a helpful acquaintance. I shouldn’t be in the same room as Granger and Weasley exchanging pleasantries, and glances, and making amends. Using first names. Only a few months prior, Granger was tortured in my home. _Tortured_. I tried to _kill_ Weasley. I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The Dark Lord used to live with _me_. I bear the _Mark,_ for Merlin’s sake!

I stood then, panic rising in my chest. I had to leave. But before, I had to make a point.

“I can’t do that.” Yeah, great point, Draco. Such a clever answer. No political career for me.

“What?” asked Granger, taken aback.

“I said I can’t do that, Granger. I can’t make nice with Weasley and you. We weren’t on ‘bad terms’ at Hogwarts: we were enemies. I made your lives miserable. I tried to kill your boyfriend. You were tortured in front of me and I didn’t do a thing to stop it. How can you do as if nothing happened? I deserve every hateful glance or hex thrown my way and more, for the choices I’ve made. Because, do not fool yourself, those were choices that I made. I could’ve gone to D-Dumbledore for help and I _chose_ not to. Do you understand that? I should be rotting in Azkaban for all I have done. So how can you…? How _can_ you? How can you do as if nothing matters? As if it’s all in the past? Merlin, it’s only been months! The nightmares are so vivid I still think I’m going to wake up in the same house as the Dark Lord. You should hate me, Granger. You should despise me for all that I’ve done to _you_. But now you want us to call each other by our given names? Because of a letter of apology?” I was trembling then. I had trouble breathing as well and I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout at her for being so… kind. So mature. I didn’t deserve it. I wanted her – them – to see me as I am. Despicable. A coward. A looser. They were all looking at me as if I’d grown a second head. What did they see, I wondered? A wreck of a man? I straightened my spine and met each of their shocked gazes. Shackelbolt, Granger then Weasley. And I turned around and started to walk toward the door.

I heard a scratching noise and a big hand landed on my arm, keeping me from walking, in my trembling state.

“Wait, please, Malfoy” and Weasley’s voice sounded almost pleading, only a murmur close to my head that only I could hear. And it stopped me as surely as if he had stupefied me. Because why would a Weasley beg a Malfoy?

“What do you want, Weasley?” I sighed, all the fight going out of me.

“Just… just come back and take your seat. We didn’t want to make light of the past; we went about it poorly. But it’s true we need your help. Just hear us out, please.” I let him lead me back to my chair while I kept my eyes fixed on the floor.

“Hum… sorry, Malfoy. You’re right, it’s too early to start over. I guess that since we needed your help, I thought we should all be on friendly terms. I was too eager and focused on helping Harry to really think about you. Let’s just try to be respectful to one another and we’ll see how it goes from here.” Said Granger with a shy smile.

“You keep saying you need my help, but you still haven’t told me anything about what you want me to do.” I answered, avoiding the subject I had brought up in my outburst.

“Well, as you’ve understood, this has something to do with Harry… in short, he’s not well and we need you to help him get better.”

“What do you mean “he’s not well”, Granger? Just bring him to St Mungo’s. I’m no healer, I don’t see how I could be of any help.” I answered, rolling my eyes. Were they stupid? How could I help with Potter’s wellbeing? I couldn’t believe they had interrupted my breakfast for such a reason.

“Just listen to me, Draco.” I cringed when she kept using my first name. “Harry is mentally unwell. Only a mindhealer would be of any help, and he refuses to go see one. We can’t force him to go until he becomes a threat for others or himself. As of now, he is shut down in his house on his own. We tried talking to him, but we can’t get through to him. I think he’s seriously depressed. He needs help to get a grip on his life. He keeps rejecting us, so we had to think of a different way to help him. That’s when you entered the equation. I think Harry needs someone to make him feel things, to keep him grounded in the present. And, during all those years, you were the only one who could rile him up without a word. You’re our best shot to make Harry react to his surroundings. We’re really worried about him, Draco.” Granger finished, tears in her eyes. I didn’t know what to say to that. I was quite shocked, I guess. _I_ was their best shot?

“I… What exactly do you want me to do? I am not sure I am your best choice, Granger. I am… not really well myself, you see. I don’t think I can help anyone. Especially not Potter… Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s an exceptionally bad idea.”

“You would just have to make Harry angry at first, Draco. It should come pretty easily to you, I would think. The anger he would feel against you would anchor him in the present. What is essential, as of now, is to keep Harry from overthinking. Arguing with you would keep him from depressive thoughts and would be familiar to him. I’m sure a sense of normalcy would be good to him. That’s why I got him to go back to Hogwarts-“

“Hogwarts?! You want me to go back to Hogwarts?! I refuse, Granger! I can’t do it. I’m not going back there. Ever.” I was starting to panic. I couldn’t go back to Hogwarts. Too many bad memories there. “Anyway, it’s impossible. The Headmistress may have extended an invitation for me to go back, but I can assure you nobody else wants to be near me. Parents would be furious to have their children in the same school as a Death Eater! And the students… Well I don’t even want to think of their reaction.”

“Draco.” Granger sighed. “I know you’re scared but-“

“Scared? Scared?! I am most definitely _not_ scared, Granger! I am merely pointing out the obvious here. My going back to Hogwarts will wreak havoc, I can assure you.” I was seriously pissed off at that point. And, well, maybe I _might_ have been a little scared, but really, who wouldn’t? This situation was just… just… surreal. I still couldn’t fathom how, in their crazy minds, they could go from ‘Harry’s not well’ to ‘Draco Malfoy’s the answer to our problem’. Nothing made sense anymore. Gryffindors going to a Slytherin for help. Ahah. Maybe Potter wasn’t the only one in need of a mindhealer after all.

And suddenly it hit me like a wave. Potter was depressed. _Potter_. The one person in the world who should’ve been enjoying life and not wallowing in despair, all alone. He had rejected his two sidekicks. They had to resort to ask for _my_ help. And this… this smelled of desperation. And it was so overwhelming that all the tension I had been feeling left me. I went against my upbringing and slumped in my seat. I was left tired, and definitely scared to know that the strongest people I knew couldn’t solve their problem and needed my help. But I couldn’t help them. First of all, I wasn’t in any way capable of helping anyone considering my state of mind. Second, I am not brave. And I would’ve needed a lot of courage to help the Saviour. With my mind made up, I started to speak again, rising from my seat.

“Well, Granger, Weasley, Minister Shackelbolt. It’s… flattering that you thought of me to help Potter, but I must decline. Any Slytherin would be up to the task of angering him so you really don’t need me specifically. May I recommend Blaise Zabini? He has a wicked tongue and I am sure he would be delighted to find out ways to rile up the Golden Boy. I will take my leave now-“

“Sorry, Malfoy, but you’re not leaving.” Weasley calmly stated without meeting my eyes. He was on his feet, probably to stop me if need be. “There is a reason you’re the only one we can ask for help. You see, you owe Harry a life debt.” I went rigidly stiff. Understanding crashed over me, making the blood recede from my face and cold seep through my body. Life debt. I never had a choice, then. I should’ve been used to it. I never really had a choice in my life before, and it seemed that the end of the war hadn’t changed that.

Despair consumes me.


	5. Draco

Chapter 5

**DRACO**

‘You owe Harry a life debt’. ‘You owe Harry a life debt’. ‘You owe Harry a life debt’. It kept repeating itself in my head like a cursed mantra. Each time swallowing a bit of hope until I couldn’t feel anything but hopelessness as if it was a Dementor.

“Don’t. Please.” I whispered. I begged. I didn’t think it would be different from begging the Dark Lord, but I was wrong. So. Wrong. Begging Weasley was _wrong_. It shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have made me do it. He knew it. He looked sick after I spoke. “Don’t do this to me. You know I can’t do it.” I didn’t know if he could hear me for I couldn’t breathe, and the sounds that went out of my throat were softer than whispers. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes from the agony that was flooding inside of me. But in the eerily silent office, Weasley must’ve heard me because he answered in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. We don’t have a choice. Your feelings don’t matter. Harry’s feelings don’t matter. What matters is that we save him. And we will do what we must to ensure that. I’m not happy with this solution, Malfoy. I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, and I would’ve been happy never to see you again. In a perfect world, Harry wouldn’t have been depressed, and Hermione and I would’ve been enough for him. But here we are, and we don’t always get what we want or what we deserve. And you, especially, don’t deserve to get what you want.” His tone might have been soft at first, but it was becoming colder and colder, as were his eyes. It was weird coming from Weasley. He had always been a fiery one. His speech showed a maturity I didn’t know he possessed. Well, war and loss happened. “We wanted to give you a chance to accept to help us out of your own volition. We don’t enjoy forcing your hand, you know. I thought I would love to compel you to help us, but, Merlin, I don’t. I feel awful doing that to you, Malfoy. But my feelings don’t matter either. So, once again, I’m sorry, Malfoy. I know you will hate it. I know Harry will hate it. And I’m sure Hermione and I will hate it as well, but I’m calling on your life debt to save Harry.”

He drew his wand and pointed it towards me. I recoiled even though I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent what was going to happen. Granger was standing and looking at me with what felt like pity in her eyes. She mouthed ‘Sorry’ with trembling lips and I had to turn my head due to the onslaught of emotions that was filling me. It was all too much, too fast. My eyes landed on the Minister who had yet to utter a single word after his greeting. He looked completely relaxed in his chair, looking at us with interest and amusement. What was the point of his presence, I wondered. The man had been useless so far. When I heard Weasley take a breath, I faced him again without wanting to. He was standing rigidly as if his spine was made of steel. His eyes were hard from resolve and his mouth was set in a stern line. His wand arm was extended in my direction without trembling. He was a man; a boy no more. I couldn’t detach my gaze from him, a sick fascination had taken hold of me, urging me to watch the man who would change my future - my life - forever, in the eyes as he uttered the dreaded words.

“I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, friend and soul brother of Harry James Potter, on behalf of Harry James Potter, invoke the life debt owed by Draco Lucius Malfoy. As of now, Draco Lucius Malfoy will spend his life saving Harry James Potter from harm until his life debt is repaid, or until he loses his life in trying. Draco Lucius Malfoy cannot take his own life or go willingly into dangerous situations when not commanded by the life debt. If Draco Lucius Malfoy fails to do his duty, he will suffer pain proportional to the seriousness of the harm inflicted on Harry James Potter. If Harry James Potter is to die from any circumstance before the life debt is repaid, Draco Lucius Malfoy is to follow him in death. A life for a life. _Vita in vitam debit_!”

A large, white, blinding ray of light came out of Weasley’s wand and the spell hit me square in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. I could feel it working inside me, changing me. White, hot pain suffused my chest, throat and neck. I fell on my knees, clutching my chest, my heart beating so fast I thought it would stop, exhausted to death. I started to scratch my neck and throat in a failed attempt to diminish the burning sensation surrounding me like a red-hot iron noose. I was choking on my screams, tears falling freely at last. My heart started to calm down without cause and my head started to pound until I thought it would explode. I bent down on the floor and started to hit my head on the hard surface until I couldn’t move. Someone had probably restrained me, but I couldn’t pay attention to my surroundings. All I could understand was the pain. My head felt like it was expanding, as if my brain would get too big for my skull. And then, suddenly, everything stopped. All that was left was the very physical pain I had inflicted on myself. I started to be aware of my surroundings once again and discovered that three pairs of hands were restraining me. I could feel a pull at the back of my head that was foreign. I knew I was different but didn’t want to know how just yet, so I took the time to close my eyes and just _breathe_ , concentrating on the shame I felt for showing so much weakness.

Many times in the previous year, I had been on the wrong end of a _Cruciatus_ and I had somewhat managed to escape in my mind whilst writhing on the floor in agony. It had helped with the excruciating pain of the Unforgivable and with the aftermath. I remember feeling so detached from my body. I acknowledged the physical pain, but it had felt far away. I used to live in some kind of dream – or, well, nightmare – lost in a secondary state. If I had known the binding ceremony was painful, I would have gone in the safe place in my mind beforehand. I would still have cried my eyes out, but at least I wouldn’t have been so focused on it. And I wouldn’t have been plagued with all those _feelings_ afterwards. It was too late for the pain, but I still could do something to avoid dealing with the consequences of the binding so, deeply breathing, I let go of everything on each exhalation, every emotion, every physical awareness, every memory. _Everything_. When I opened my eyes to the world, I was in this state of nothingness that I had come to know so well.

“Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know the spell would be so painful, the books I’ve read didn’t mention anything like that. How are you feeling now? We should get him to St Mungo’s! Can you stand?” Granger was crying whilst checking my forehead where I could feel blood leaking and reaching my eyes. I laid there, motionless, whilst she muttered a spell and my head was once again in its normal state: painless and blood inside it. But when she put her fingers on my throat, a small part of me took note that it was still sore.

“I’m fine, Granger.” I said automatically, in a monotone voice. I picked myself up from the floor, since she had asked me to get up - standing on shaking legs I noticed – and waited for someone to tell me what I had to do next.

“Malfoy, are you sure you don’t want to go to St Mungo’s? We can discuss later-“

“I’m sure, Weasley.” I interrupted calmly. Weasley looked at me insistently, an emotion I could not decipher - in the state of mind I was in – on his face.

“As you wish, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s take our seats and go over the details of your duties, then.” Shackelbolt, at last, said with a smile. We all went back to our previous seats, my limbs moving mechanically.

“As you gathered, Mr. Malfoy, since Mr. Potter is going back to Hogwarts, you will have to accompany him.” I listened to him, motionless, aware that nothing made sense but that I would have to deal with it later, when I would go back to reality. “All the school material you will need has already been bought and sent to the school, so you don’t need to buy anything. You can either take the Hogwarts express tomorrow or floo to the Headmistress’ office from your Manor anytime in the day. Furthermore, you will be granted your wand back, but your magic will be monitored by the Ministry. As such, you will only be able to do the magic necessary for your lessons and N.E.W.T.S. You can do basic spells as well for your everyday life. From what we understand of the life debt bond, if you need anything more powerful to ensure Mr. Potter stays safe, the bond will kick in and help you cast the offensive or defensive spells you need by channeling to you some of Mr. Potter’s magic. In that case, your magical signature will be different, since your magic will mingle with that of the bond’s and Mr. Potter’s, and thus it will not be traced and monitored by the Ministry. You can cast the magic you need for your duties without fear of repercussion since the bond in itself will only allow you to cast what you need to. It is guarantee enough for the Ministry. Outside of this room, only Headmistress McGonagall and healer Pomfrey have knowledge of the situation and we want it to stay that way. Be aware that the bond will prevent you from speaking of it to anyone who doesn’t know of it, including your parents. I think this is it from the Ministry part, I will let Miss Granger continue.”

“We do not know much about the specifics of life bonds since we couldn’t find a lot of material about it. From what I’ve read, though, I’ve come to the conclusion that the bond is… _sentient_. I think it comes from the fact that it’s such an ancient magic, and, I have to say, it’s truly fascinating!” She then launched into a very detailed speech about her findings and theories. She was engrossed in her thoughts. Her eyes were glinting from excitement, her hands moving frantically to help make her point and she was sporting a little smile. Weasley coughed in an attempt to get the attention of his girlfriend. When that didn’t work, he settled to lightly shake her shoulder whilst calling her name. That did the trick, and Granger was back on track once again. “Sorry, Draco. As you can see, I find the subject… intriguing.” I looked at her without blinking, not understanding why she was apologizing. She looked at me sheepishly but then, her expression morphed into… concern? Sadness? I didn’t care and, after a few seconds, she sighed and continued “Let’s move on. So, as I was saying, the bond is sentient, and it adapts itself to the specific needs of each indebted pair. We can’t predict what the effects will be on you. It might be that you’ll only feel a pull when you’re needed by Harry’s side but there’s a strong possibility that you will forcibly apparate where he is; I guess it depends on the situation. Sometimes the bond can even prevent the indebted from saying what he wants. I think that it could apply to you considering your… relationship with Harry. You’ll just have to see as it goes. There’s one thing consistent in all my readings, though, and that is that there is some kind of sign that appears on the indebted, marking the existence of the bond. I don’t know what this sign is because it seems to be different for each pair. It can be some kind of glow or aura around the indebted, a feeling or even a physical mark. It depends. This sign is only visible to the pair so that they always recognize each other even with the use of Polyjuice or glamour. At last, there is also the need for privacy. The bond asks for it to prevent anyone ill-intentioned to target the debtor, and thus causing him to fail in protecting his creditor. I think we covered all that I gathered. Do you have any questions?” She asked me hopefully. I had stocked all that she had said in a part of my brain for a later review; but at the moment I hadn’t really understood anything, so I had no question for her. I could feel that my body was exhausted though, and I interpreted it as a sign that I had to go home.

“Thank you, Granger, but I don’t have any question. If that is all, I will go home now.” I said politely.

“Oh, okay, Draco.” She said – disappointed? - . “Well, if you think of anything, you can ask me anytime. Ron and I will be at Hogwarts as well.” I nodded and she gave me a smile.

“Before you take your leave, Mr. Malfoy, I have something to give you.” Said the Minister, sliding a long box to the end of his desk. I reached out automatically and put away the box in my robes.

“Thank you, Minister Shackelbolt.”

He had a puzzled look when he asked “Aren’t you going to open it? I thought you would have been overjoyed to have it back.”

“Oh. Yes, Minister.” I obediently pulled out the box from my robes and opened it quietly. I looked at it and found an hawthorn wand inside. _My wand_ , supplied my mind. The Minister had said that I should be overjoyed so I raised my head, met his eyes, and produced the biggest smile I could “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Mr. Potter gave it to the Ministry as evidence for your trial. Since you are in need of it, it rightly goes back to you.” said Shackelbolt in a gentle tone.

“Thank you.” I said, once again, not knowing what else to say.

“My pleasure, Mr. Malfoy. I believe you are free to go, now. Would you like me to call your Auror escort or do you prefer to leave alone? Now that you have your wand back, you can protect yourself well enough I would think.”

“There is no need for an escort, Minister. I will take my leave, now. Granger, Weasley, I’ll see you tomorrow at Hogwarts. Minister, have a good day.” I said solemnly, properly.

I made my exit on their goodbye greetings. I walked the Ministry corridors at a sedate pace completely oblivious to my surroundings, still in a dreamlike state. It would’ve been an ideal time to hex me but, fortunately, nobody tried, and I reached the apparition point unhindered.

I decided to apparate outside the Manor grounds. I needed some time to get out of my mind and absorb what had happened, and I couldn’t face my parents quite yet. I found an isolated spot under a tree and sat. I closed my eyes, started taking deep breaths and forced myself to feel again. It was an ordeal. Each new time was worse than the previous one. It would have been so easy to just stay forever in this state. Nothing to upset me. It was like floating, everything flowing around me without sticking. It was so hard to make myself go back to reality. But I forced myself to think of my mother, and I knew I couldn’t do that to her. She deserved a son and not the shadow of one. So, I let the sun warm my skin. I let the smell of flowers, grass and dirt fill my nostrils. I let the birds’ songs reach my ears. I let the metallic taste of blood permeate my mouth. And, as I opened my eyes and took the peaceful view in, I let myself _feel_.

…

And this is where I am, now, seated under a tree, trying to understand what happened to me. I have relived everything, and it just confused me even more. Well, if I think about it, no matter how much I try to understand the situation, nothing will change. I will still be the recipient of a life debt bond. I can’t do anything about it. I should be spending my time thinking about what I _can_ do. The most urgent matter, right now, is finding out what I will tell my parents. If I am honest with myself, I feel quite relived to know I can’t tell them about the life bond. It would have distressed them, and in their state of minds I don’t know what they would have done. It’s better to keep them in the dark for the time being. But still, they will see that I have my wand back – and I still can’t believe I have it back! It’s such an amazing feeling! When I understood I had my wand I immediately cast a _Scourgify_ on myself and a cushioning charm on the ground and it was _perfect_! - and will want an explanation. Well, nothing is better than the truth – or a part of it. I will just tell them that the Minister has ordered me to go back to Hogwarts and has given me my wand back for my studies. It explains the summon, going back to school and my wand. Perfect.

Thinking of it, I should think about Hogwarts. Hogwarts Express or Floo? Floo. There’s no point thinking about it, I can’t see myself stuck in a train full of animosity for hours. When should I go back? The train arrives early evening, but I guess it would be good for me to go earlier and have a talk with the Headmistress. Maybe see if Pomfrey has some additional knowledge about the bond. I’ll go to Hogwarts after lunch, then.

It feels really good to take some decisions. I start to feel more peaceful as I get the impression that I’m once again master of my own life. A little voice tries to tell me that it’s all an illusion, and that from now on Harry Potter is my new master.

I squash that voice.

I cast a quick _tempus_ , relishing this feeling of _harmony_ with my wand. It’s lunch time. I’ve been away for hours. My parents must be frantic right now! I swear as I rise from my spot and quickly apparate home.

The wards must have warned them of my return because as soon as I appear in the entrance hall, I can hear them running towards me. Really, if I was wondering before if they had changed, the fact they are _running_ just confirms it. It’s so undignified and opposite everything they’ve taught me. It’s nice to see I’m not the only one struggling to keep the Malfoy mask!

“Draco! How are you? You were gone for so long! What happened?” Mother asks hurriedly, her hands all over my body checking for injuries and I feel grateful for Granger’s healing spells – and really, the world must have gone to a stop for me to feel grateful to _Granger_ \- . I can see Father regaining his bearings and trying to look placid. But I know I heard two sets of running feet and I cast him my famous smirk. He looks pained to have been caught in such an un-Malfoyish behaviour and starts to dust his robes to compose himself.

It always comes as a surprise to me, how much my attitude towards my father has changed in a year time. I still love him, that much will never change, no matter what he does. He will always be my father. But now, I also despise him. I feel so disappointed by him. I even pity him. And this is so foreign to me to feel such negative feelings towards him. I used to fear him. Fear disappointing him. Fear the punishments. But you fear someone when you acknowledge their superiority.

I don’t fear him anymore.

I used to hate him so much when the Dark Lord was in our house. I still don’t understand how he could have put his family in danger the way he did. He used to tell me that family is everything. Family comes first. And I believed him faithfully. But now I know. I know.

Family doesn’t come first.

It’s the family _name_ that comes first.

It’s not Narcissa and Draco who are everything.

It’s _Malfoy_ that’s everything.

Such a tiny difference. A tiny difference that tore my world apart. It was a hard, harrowing lesson learnt. Learnt at wand point when my own father cast the _Cruciatus_ on me, following his Master’s orders, in a failed attempt to regain his favors. I’ll always wonder if he would’ve killed me if the Dark Lord had asked him to?

Well, it’s better to stay away from these kinds of thoughts.

“I’m fine, Mother. Father.” How ironic that he would be worried for me _now_. “I have a few things to tell you. I’m quite famished, so if it’s alright with you, I’d as well tell you whilst lunching.” And, without waiting for an answer, I start walking towards the dining room. I hear them following me and, as we all take our seats around the huge dining table, the entrée is served. As I look at the small plate full of colours – red, orange and yellow fresh tomatoes, white mozzarella cheese, green basil leaves and dark balsamic vinegar – I realize I really am famished and start eating with gusto. After a few delicious mouthfuls, I pick up the conversation again. “I was summoned by the Minister to inform me of a change in my sentence.” I see both my parents bracing themselves for bad news. If it had only been my father, I would have left him time to imagine the worst things. But as I don’t wish to torture my mother, I quickly continue. “He wants me to go back to Hogwarts as a way to make amends. I’ve been given my wand back but it’s under strict restrictions. I’ll also have to stay under the supervision of Harry Potter and his friends.” I feel the overwhelming panic constrict my stomach once again and, suddenly, I can’t bear the thought of eating anymore. I take a deep breath to collect myself and delicately put down the cutlery. I take a look at my parents and see that both of them are sporting shocked expressions.

“Oh, Draco, my sweet darling.” Starts my mother in a shuddering breath, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. “Why – What - Is this a punishment?” Mother seems so fragile in this moment. She’s close to tears and it breaks my heart – and who would have guessed I still had a heart? – because I know that, a year ago, she would never have stuttered. She never would have showed she was afraid. She was so strong. She still is but I also know that the war has broken her, a little. And I’m hit by a wave of rage at my father. He should have protected her; even if she’s far stronger than he or I ever will be; he should have kept her from the war. He should have kept her from seeing her son being tortured on her floors when he’d failed a mission. He should have…

Breathe in. Breathe out. What’s done is done. I squeeze Mother’s hand to – I hope – bring her some comfort.

“Do not worry too much, Mother. The Minister hasn’t explicitly said it was punishment. I’m guessing there’s a little bit of that, but I also think it’s intended as a way for me to rehabilitate myself. I… am not too keen on going back to Hogwarts, but I can see that passing my N.E.W.T.S. will be an advantage in the long run. I have to start thinking on ways to bring back the Malfoy name out of the mud.” I look into Father’s eyes as I say that. I want to see if he’s ashamed. And he is. An outsider wouldn’t have caught the flickering emotion that crossed his face, but I do. And I feel ashamed, as well, to want to hurt him. To know how to hurt him and use it.

I switch my gaze to my mother. She’s relaxed a little and she’s smiling at me softly.

“I see your point, Draco. I’m sorry you have to shoulder the responsibility of straightening our name. Circe knows you’ve been through enough hardships already.” She squeezes my hand a little too hard for me to be comfortable. For a flitting moment, she looks distant, lost in her thoughts. But then, her gaze sharpens, and she looks at me sadly. “And you will face so many more hardships in your future because of us. I’m so sorry, my sweet baby. I’m so very sorry.” She’s caressing my cheek so lovingly, now. A few stray tears are rolling down her face. I feel so loved it’s crushing me. My throat starts to close, and my eyes burn. Who knew love could make it so hard to breathe? “I want you to know that, no matter what happens, no matter your choices, I’m proud of you. Your father and I are so proud of you, my son. You are our greatest joy and the best thing we’ve ever made. It is going to be hard for you, at Hogwarts, but know that you are not alone and that we will support you no matter what.” She tenderly strokes my cheek a last time with her thumb before composing herself. She takes a white tissue out of her robes and delicately dabs at her eyes. I find myself so shaken that I feel an urge to go to my rooms and be alone.

“I – Thank you, Mother, for your kind words. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my rooms. I am quite tired.” She looks knowingly at me as I stand.

“Of course, Draco. You had an eventful morning. You should rest. We’ll see you later.” Mother says, picking up her fork to finish her entrée. Father looks thoughtfully in the distance and I don’t wait for him to speak. I step out of the dining room and nearly run up the stairs and the corridors to my suite.

As I close the heavy wooden door, I am thankful to have permanent privacy wards embedded in the walls of my rooms. My breathing is short, and I fear a panic attack is imminent. But as I forcefully make myself take deep breathes, I slowly regain control of myself, and sit heavily on the floor, my back on the door. I don’t know what to make of my mother’s words. I have never doubted my parents’ love for me. Even my father’s love. I’ve always known he loves me, even if he’s always been more distant than my mother. Yes, I have never doubted my father loves me. It is just that he loves other things more. Like power.

As for my mother, she’s never been shy in showing me how much she loves me. She doesn’t say it often, but her actions are proof enough. I have always known I am my mother’s first priority. She might have seemed cold from an outsider point of view, and she might not have had a lot of time to spare for me when I was little, when she was busy with all sorts of engagements; but she always took time to spend some quality time with me every day, no matter how occupied or tired she was.

I am aware how blessed I am – especially in a pureblood family – to have loving parents. And it unsettles me that Mother has felt the need to remind me so straightforwardly of their love. It infuriates me that _she_ apologized, and my father stayed mute.

She is so worried about me… and she doesn’t know half of what happened this morning. As much as I am loathed to lie to her, I am glad that she will never know of this bond I am a slave of. Thinking of the bond, I don’t really feel it now. I should check in the mirror if anything’s different. My parents didn’t see a thing, but I think I remember Granger mentioning a sign only visible to me or something. A glow?

I stand up from my spot on the floor and cross my sitting room towards the full-length mirror in the opposite corner of the room. As I look at my reflection, my eyes are automatically directed at my neck.

There’s a tattoo. Black-inked, thin tree branches fully encircle my neck, delicately intertwined with black bramble vines. Spots of colours catch my eyes, and I can see soft red, exquisite poppy flowers interspersed with delicate, pastel yellow everlasting flowers. It looks like an exquisite, fragile necklace.

I’ve been Marked.

Again.

I’ve been Marked.

I can’t believe it.

I’ve been _Marked_.

Again.

 _Again_.

_I’ve been Marked_.

I’VE BEEN MARKED!!!

I fall to my knees, unable to detach my gaze from this wrong, hideous, sickening collar effectively linking me to my master, my arms limp by my sides, hands falling to the floor.

Finally, I break down.


End file.
